


In the Woods

by megoscar



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Gen, Human Feyre, Pre-ACOTAR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 15:20:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14404905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megoscar/pseuds/megoscar
Summary: A snapshot into Feyre's life before the start of ACOTAR.





	In the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic. Thank you for taking the time to read it. Please comment on what I can do to improve my writing!

The silence is deafening. I sit in anticipation, praying to the forgotten gods that I catch something today. Up in my tree, I can see the whole of the meadow. I was incredibly lucky to find this place, a salt lick. Deer come from far and wide to lick up the salt their diet lacks, and now I sit in wait, bow in hand. I am alone with my swirling thoughts and Nesta’s insults ringing in my ears.

“Dirty,” she yelled, “stupid, uneducated beast!”

We had gotten into a fight over some coin Father had brought home after selling some of his wood carvings to some pitying soul. Nesta had wanted to buy some used books from the travelling salesman who had stopped for the day in our tiny village. I, on the hand, had wanted to purchase a new knife and some arrowheads from the blacksmith. I argued that the forged iron would bring food to the table, that the only good thing a book could do was be kindling in the fireplace. Our yelling match had become so loud and caustic, that Elain, sweet gentle Elain, had stepped between us and ended the argument with a quiet, “Feyre is right, Nesta. We can’t afford books right now”.

   Elain siding with me had been a surprise. Usually, it was me against my two sisters. Nesta relented at my other sister’s words but not before spewing that hate-filled venom all over me.

 ** _Snap!_ ** I’m startled out of my brooding by a deer entering the clearing. It’s a doe. Fat off the summer leaves and grasses, she could feed us for at least a few days and still have some meat to dry and put away for the hard winter months that were looming over me, an inescapable doom slowly marching toward us.

Slowly and quietly as possible, as to not startle the deer, I pull back on my bowstring, thumb barely brushing against my cheek before I let the arrow fly. It flies straight and swift into one of the doe’s hind legs. Rapidly as possible, I draw another arrow and shoot the creature straight through one of her forelegs, preventing her from fleeing. Climbing down from my hidden perch, I slit her throat, wait for her to bleed out and pick her up for the long walk back to the cabin.

As I walk, I can almost taste the sweet flesh on my tongue. Savouring the flavour as it slides down my throat and into my stomach to help ease the gnaw of constant hunger. Even now, in early autumn, as the leaves turn russet, gold and brown, hunger starts to plague us. The winter still a few months away, the gnaw and ache will only get worse.

Arriving home, I see the pile of logs that should have been chopped outside the hovel, the prison, that I call home.

Sitting on my favourite stump, I skin and butcher the deer, the blood covering my hands, my blade and the ground around me. Bring the meat inside, I place it on the table. As I finish mopping up the drips of blood on the floor, I see my father in his usual place by the fire, carving something. He doesn’t even look up as head back outside to clean up. Wiping my knife, I place it back into its sheath, I will probably have to oil one of these days so it doesn’t rust. I then bury the blood-soaked ground with fresh dirt and leaves to mask the smell and hope no predator comes around looking for an easy meal.

After I finish, I come face to face with Nesta, who is standing in the doorway.

“You took your time,” she said, “we almost thought a wolf or fey got to you”

Raising an eyebrow, I respond “How nice to know my family worries about me”

“Hardly,” she says snorting, “I was just hungry for dinner”

Letting me pass we head in. Elain has already started cooking up the meat and some root vegetable from her small garden into a hearty stew. She smiles at me while I pass walking into our shared bedroom and strip off my sweaty hunting clothes for the only other set I own. A long shirt that doubles as a tunic, worn out leather leggings, thick woollen socks and a simple hairband to keep my braid secure. The clothes are all worn out from going through my two older sisters. I pause on my out of the bedroom to brush my fingers over the top drawer, my drawer. Even now as the paint has chipped and faded, the scene is still beautiful and serene, dark and peaceful, deep and filled with a feeling of home, which is rather odd since I don’t often see the night sky. Passing back out into the kitchen, I settle in front of the fire next to my father, impatiently waiting for dinner to be ready. The warmth washes through me, relaxing every sore and tired muscle in my body. Slowly but surely my eyes drift close and I am whisked off to the city of dreams.          


End file.
